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Dryden, John, 1631-1700

"The works of John Dryden, $c now first collected in eighteen volumes. $p Volume 02"

How, all the money?
_Isa_. Ay, for I am sure I can huswife it better for your honour;
not but that I shall be willing to encourage you with pocket-money, or
so, sometimes.
_Tim_. This is somewhat hard.
_Isa_. Nay, if a woman cannot do that, I shall think you have
an ill opinion of my virtue: Not trust your own flesh and blood, Sir
Timorous?
_Tim_. Well, is there any thing more behind?
_Isa_. Nothing more, only the choice of my own company, my own
hours, and my own actions: These trifles granted me, in all things of
moment, I am your most obedient wife and servant, Isabella.
_Tim_. Is't a match, then?
_Isa_. For once I am content it shall; but 'tis to redeem you
from those rascals, Burr and Failer--that way, Sir Timorous, for fear
of spies; I'll meet you at the garden door.--[_Exit_ TIMOROUS.] I
have led all women the way, if they dare but follow me.
_And now march off, if I can scape but spying,
With my drums beating, and my colours flying_.
[_Exit_.
_Burr_. So, their wooing's at an end; thanks to my wit.
_Enter_ FAILER.
_Fail_. O Burr! whither is it Sir Timorous and Madam Isabella are
gone together?
_Burr_. Adore my wit, boy; they are parted, never to meet again.
_Fail_. I saw them meet just now at the garden-door: So ho, ho,
ho, who's within there! Help here quickly, quickly.


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